I flatlined.
There was nothing but a corpse, the soul sucked out by tiny midgets and the insatiable needs of the multitudes. Across the room, a defibrillator disguised as anti-anxiety medication reminded me of its presence. The prescription would help, of course, but self-care was too exhausting now. The effort not even an option, but a distant intent; one that had it been enacted proactively, may have lessened the direness of the outcome. But alas, the outcome came.
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Naturally, my immediate reaction is one of bewildered sarcasm. "The dark chocolate quinoa crisp I packed you?” Oh, the horror. And here I was, innocently thinking that the dark chocolate quinoa crisp I packed was the epitome of snack-time wizardry. Silly me. “It's QUINOA! It's a friggin’ SUPER FOOD!" I exclaim, the irony dripping from my voice like chocolate from a discarded quinoa crisp.
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If I had been someone else looking at me, I probably would have thought- “Man, this girl has her sh*t together.” I mean, what mom of two young boys can eat an entire bagel without sharing or enjoy a frappe while actually SITTING DOWN?
But little did those unsuspecting onlookers know, this picture-perfect moment was merely a facade, a brief respite from the chaos that was about to ensue. You see, life has a way of reminding us that what we see is often far from the truth. Welcome to the world of imposter syndrome: Motherhood Edition.
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I live in Florida.
And, I’m a mom. In Florida.
I’m also neurotic.
Oh, and I’m a New York transplant. So, I’m a non-native, neurotic, Florida mom.
In our great state of Walt Disney, endless summer weather and beaches galore, we also have a plethora of undesirables hiding in every inch of our sun-kissed surface.
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It’s one of those days. THOSE days.
On more than one occasion today, I found myself in child’s pose on the closet floor.
As I write, both B3 and B4 are fighting their naps. They are both running in and out of their room with urgent needs to kill the ant they found in the house two days ago or find the Green Lantern mask that’s been missing for a month.
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When I was thirteen, I had a piano concert.
I had been a long time student and that year, I received the coveted first chair position. As one does with such an honor, I chose the piece that best reflected my talent and would impresses on the audience the challenge in the pace, the grace of my finger movements and the sheer grit it took to make the piece my own.
I chose Burgmüller’s Arabesque.
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Reader, beware. This is a total Debbie Downer post. Like, if you’re having even a semi good day, please stop reading. If you’re having a spit-on-your-neck fantastic day (Friends reference), then I’m just going to hang up on you. Boom. Consider yourself disconnected. If you’re having a crappy day and you’re feeling like the literal weight of the earth is on your head, go grab a glass of wine and come back. I’ll wait.
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I was listening to a Momcast the other day (side note: I had planned on gloriously claiming this quippy expression for a mom podcast, but was schooled otherwise by Urban Dictionary) hosted by two women with completely different parenting models. Woman A was admittedly a helicopter flying, list-making, kale cooking, type A mom. Woman B was openly a go with the flow, throw a pop tart, “where are my kids?” kinda mama.
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I’m good enough. I’m smart enough. And doggone it, people like me!
Allegedly (and backed up by Stuart Smalley), routinely speaking positivity into the mirror can boost your self esteem. Daily affirmations are designed to reduce negativity and the impulse to self-sabotage. And, repeated often enough, you may even start to believe it…
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Friday, May 1st, was scheduled to be B4’s birth day. As much as I didn’t want another c-section, I was more terrified of the unknown. God decided that a c-section was not in the cards after all…and He also decided that I should no longer give Panera any of my money…
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My name is not actually Penelope. I wanted to write anonymously so I can be brutally honest about various topics. And complain. Mostly complain. However, the name Penelope does hold a special place in my heart and I thought I would share her story…
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This is it! My very first post! Not even just my first post on this site, my first post EVER. I’ve never blogged. I’ve always wanted to, but didn’t know where to start (thank you Squarespace AND my BFF) or what to write about (thank you B3 and B4!). I definitely didn’t think anything I had to say was interesting…and it probably still isn’t. But…I find myself narrating even the most mundane moments of my day and I figured I should probably find an outlet for the voices….
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